Where there is light, there is a way out of the darkness

My mind screams for me to run, but my feet are planted where they are. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. There’s no way this is real!

I am ready for battle. I am ready to fight.

I can feel that I'm in a dream, but I can't wake myself up.

And darkness will rule.

I jolt up, a scream lodged in my throat. Drops of sweat roll down my forehead and my throat hurts as if I've been screaming for a long time.

Every story needs some sort of secret that impels it forward. Otherwise why would the reader bother to keep on turning the pages?

Your problem is a serious lack of imagination. You can’t imagine being different than you are.

True, we love life, not because we are used to living, but because we are used to loving. There is always some madness in love, but there is also always some reason in madness.

We all want to know what went wrong, even when there isn't really an answer to that question.

We become what we think about most.

There's a thread that binds all of us together; pull one end of the thread, the strain is felt all down the line.

Being an artist, it's always tempting to measure success through other people's eyes, be they critics, journalists or audiences.

My only real insecurities in high school were having such long legs and thick hair — things I’m so very grateful for now.

Look at your own potential. Don't overestimate your capabilities and push too hard, or underestimate them and use that as an excuse to be lazy.

I grew up in Michigan, in a very small town, Centreville. In my graduating class I had like 92 people.